Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 12
A/N: This is going to be a running author's note, but if you read on and enjoy this story, make sure to have my username saved in case my account is deleted. I post on AO3 and Wattpad as well under the same name.
New A/N: Between The Year Hidden From Hogwarts and now The Displaced Sorting, we've more than passed 100k words, making this my longest running story on and AO3! Thanks for all your comments that keep me going.
September 19th, 1992
Hermione was glad she'd given up on using quills after the third week of school. They were unnecessarily difficult, and she had better uses for her time than relearning penmanship because the Wizarding World was too outdated to create any new inventions since the Middle Ages.
Some of the honeymoon phase of Hogwarts had worn off, and she was seeing that magic made much of wizardkind lazy. And yes, she hadn't put in the effort to learn how to write with a quill, but it wasn't as if she whiled away the extra time she'd gained. Oftentimes, in class, students only did the bare minimum, apart from Ravenclaw—and the house of eagles came with their own problems.
She'd not seen much of Luna or Ginny outside of flying class, so she'd felt compelled to revisit her tabled plan to join up with like-minded studious students in the library. But when she'd tried to discuss some theory behind that day's charms lesson with Morag MacDougal and her friends—the sum total of the Ravenclaw girls in their year—only to discover they didn't put much thought into the how's and why's and the applications of a piece of magic, so long as they mastered the spell for their exams.
Frustrated, Hermione hadn't tried to reach out to them again, though she was wishing she had to help drown out the noise as a table of third or fourth year Hufflepuffs sat nearby and were whispering quite loudly.
"I heard—"
"—second year!"
"Hush! She might—"
"—that she—"
A gasp. "No! That can't possibly—"
"Well—"
"—ggle parents that—"
"—ut she's a Sly—"
"Exactly."
"Oh!"
Her hand clenched around the ink pen in her hand once more, making the plastic groan. Yes, she was glad she hadn't been holding a quill because surely it would've snapped in half by now.
Their whispering rose once more in volume, and Hermione flipped the large tome she'd been reading shut, making the entire table of upper-year gossips jump.
"You're not being very quiet," she hissed at them before whisking away the book and disappearing into the shelves in search of a better one.
Maybe after being called out, they'd be mortified she caught them gossiping about her and flee in shame before she returned.
Unfortunately, today was not her day—ironic, considering the date, but true. She returned to her table, dismayed to find the Hufflepuffs had grown more emboldened, holding her gaze as they spoke about her.
After thirty minutes of hearing every theory and rumor there could possibly be, from how she'd immigrated here from France after getting kicked out of another magical school called Beauxbatons—actually not that far off the mark considering her mum's French heritage—all the way to the outlandish and sickening, up to and including that she'd given out "favors" to skip a year.
"I've only just turned thirteen, you sick, cruel harpies! Have you nothing better to do than engage in meaningless gossip?" Hermione burst out as she shot to her feet.
They had no answer for her.
Frustrated, she gave a careless wave of her hand over the books and sent them flying back to their spots on the shelves, leaving the upper year Hufflepuffs gaping at her show of wandless, nonverbal magic. Really, the charms on the shelves themselves would take over the actual precision work to reshelve the books, and shooting off projectiles in various directions was something she'd gotten rather adept at thanks to MI5.
Still, she hoped the display would banish some of the worst rumors about trading services.
She hid her shudder of disgust and left before she decided to do anything more and risk getting permanently banned from the library. Up the stairs before Central Hall, she heard a pair of students approaching, but she didn't worry too much. However, she'd underestimated the strength of both their haste.
"I'm telling you, Ron, that the voice I heard—"
"Oof!" Hermione cried as they plowed into one another, both knocked to the floor.
"Oi! Watch it!"
Hermione glanced up, collecting her books that she hadn't stopped to return to her bag in her rush to leave. With as much vehemence had been in the person's voice, she fully expected the person admonishing her to be from Slytherin. So, to her surprise, she saw Ronald Weasley. She went back to gathering her stuff. "Ronald Weasley, right?"
Even from her peripherals, she could see the way her neutral comment took the wind from his sails. "I, er, yeah?"
"I sat on the train with your sister, Ginny. We've flying class together," she explained. Glancing at the so far silent boy she'd actually ran into, she was taken aback by the intense scrutiny. "Er, Potter, right?"
He nodded in answer, but Weasley had regathered his wits. "Yeah, he is. What's it to you, snake?"
Hermione glared at him. Another irony of the day, she was hated for being a Slytherin, while hated by the Slytherins for being Muggle-born. She ignored him, inadvertently taking some of her frustration out in her apology to Potter which came out brusquer than she'd intended. "Sorry."
Still, Potter stared her down with glittering jade eyes, and they distracted her enough that she blinked in shock when she realized he was holding out her pen for her.
"Oh, thanks! I don't know what I'd do without that. Quills are so…" she trailed off, remembering Weasley's rudeness. "Well, anyway. Sorry I ran into you, though you're at least half to blame."
Weasley snorted in disgust. "Just like a snake to give such a half-arsed apology."
Hermione glared at him, now standing. "Well, I know it's not 'just like' a Weasley to be so rude, considering I also shared a carriage with the twins, so what's your excuse?"
The redhead gaped, and she left before he could rally for another round. She'd already reached the end of her tether, and the next poor soul to be short with her would likely receive the entirety of her built up wrath.
So, she planned to hide herself away. Seeing as to how it was Saturday, it was a viable plan, except she ran into Luna, of all people. Although maybe she shouldn't be too surprised considering her proximity to the Ravenclaw Tower.
"Hermione! There you are."
Luna had been looking for her. Hermione carefully tucked away her anger. Luna Lovegood was the last person in the entire castle that would deserve anyone's ire. If there was another person more fit for that title, she'd yet to meet them. The Ravenclaw girl just had an air of genuine innocence about her.
She smiled. "Hi, Luna. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine, but I wanted to track you down and give you these." Luna held her hand where a pair of earrings sat. "They're dirigible plums. I thought they suited you more than radishes."
Hermione was confused, even as she dragged a smile onto her face. "Are these another kind of protection? Because I'm wearing the amulet every day now."
She'd already returned Luna's loaned amulet to her during the following flying class.
"In a way, but nothing so straightforward as the amulet, I'm afraid," she replied in her airy voice. "They're a protection because they solidify our friendship, don't you think? They mean that I'm your friend and want to be there for you."
Hermione's throat closed and her eyes burned at the unexpected—though honestly, she really should've expected the unexpected from Luna at this point—words. "Oh."
"And it's your birthday, silly. You receive gifts on your birthday in the Muggle world as well, right?"
Hermione nodded, composing herself as she fished out the simple ball studs in her lobes and replaced them with the plums. "How did you know it was my birthday, Luna?"
It certainly wasn't a topic they'd ventured to on the train ride.
"Oh, a little tokage told me," Luna answered.
Hermione frowned at the unfamiliar word. She'd been slowly reading through Scamander's books, but in between all her projects, she hadn't completed it. Maybe the tokage was in a later chapter. "Well, thank you, Luna, truly."
After a brief moment of hesitation, she threw her arms around the slight girl and hugged her in thanks before pulling away. It made her realize that, other than bumping into Potter earlier, she hadn't had any form of human contact. That was horrifying considering how much her dad hugged her growing up.
Loneliness bit through her. "Er, Luna?"
"Yes, Hermione?"
"I was wondering, would you and Ginny like to join me in the library sometimes?"
Luna tilted her head, staring off into the distance, and taking her sweet time before she answered. "No, I don't think so." Hermione didn't even have time to feel offended because Luna continued, adding, "I don't think you would appreciate all the blitrots in your vicinity. They've grown particularly nasty lately. But I'm sure I'll run into you when the time is right. Bye, Hermione."
And with that, the girl skipped off.
Hermione blinked, feeling a bit shell-shocked from an interaction with Luna, as per the usual, before she shook off her confusion and continued to the common room.
Despite the odd interaction, Hermione smiled because she'd had odder friends before. She'd made best friends with a ghost that didn't even speak the same language as her, and what'd she do? She learned German.
So, despite her oddities, Luna Lovegood was far from Hermione's most unusual friend.
And the fact that she'd officially made a friend here at Hogwarts, left her in a chipper mood as she kept reaching up to feel that the earrings were still there and in fact real.
She reached the common room, and her good mood vanished.
The room was teeming with students. In her packed schedule to help avoid confrontations in her own house, she did her best to leave early and return late. This led to her lull in false security because the common areas were usually fairly empty.
Chatter died down as people caught sight of her and nudged their companions to turn in her direction.
Hermione squared her shoulders, invisible energy spooling in her hands, and she decided that it was her birthday, and she wasn't going to let them chase her out of here. Luckily the common room was as tall as it was vast because Ignis chirped a definitive agreement from her hair.
Great, so it wouldn't be one against Slytherin house, it'd be one and her tiny salamander companion with a Pomeranian sized chip on its shoulder against Slytherin house.
No one batted an eye when she erected a shield around Ignis and herself.
And why would they? With all the practice she'd put into the sapphire blue of the shielding magic she'd been using as a sort of telekinesis, she didn't need a wand to do so, nor was it visible to anyone without visiomagus abilities.
"Granger, right?" a voice called from off to her left, startling her.
She hadn't realized anyone had been behind her, and she was glad she'd erred on the side of precaution.
An upper year stood there, bearing one of the prefects' badges, only instead of a "P," it read Head Girl.
Hermione stiffened, licking her lips. "Yes."
"My name's Gemma Farley, and I think you and I need to have a talk."
And the hits just kept on coming.
"Follow me," she ordered and headed off for the dorms.
Hermione stood corrected. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, she thought as Farley led them away from the crowd.
Too soon, someone called out, "Hey, Gemma, wait up. I'll join you."
Hermione turned, spying a tall boy jogging to catch up.
Farley turned, a scowl twisting her dark features. "What do you want, Sallow?"
The bow held his hands up. "Whoa, we've gone to school together for going on seven years, and you won't call me Lucan? That's sad, Gemma."
"Just spit it out, Sallow."
"I just want to help, same as you."
Farley narrowed her eyes. "Right. Fine, whatever, follow along."
He smirked and gestured for them to pass. "Lead the way."
Farley snorted but led Hermione down the metal catwalk—an odd mockery of a moat with the water flowing beneath the raised walkway. At the seventh-year girl's dorms, Farley opened the door, allowing Hermione to precede her.
She maintained her shield, her eyes scanning the round room for any traps.
Oddly enough, the trap hadn't been for her.
Behind them, a surprised yelp sounded out, and Hermione, a little high strung, spun around, her hands covered in bluebell flames, ready for her guidance.
In the doorway beyond, Sallow stood, wrapped in writhing black snakes, but he seemed less concerned with that than Hermione's hands. Farley also eyed the flames with a raised brow, her arms crossed as she relaxed against the wall.
Hermione faltered in confusion, the energy dying out at the lack of a threat other than the mass of reptiles, but Sallow's lack of concern for his own predicament threw her off.
"So, it's true?" Sallow asked, his brown eyes traveling up to her face. "You really can perform wandless magic?"
Farley straightened. "Nonverbal, too."
"Uh," Hermione began, glancing between the two. "Is nobody concerned about the snakes?"
Sallow shrugged his shoulders, as much as he could with all but the upper portion of his torso wrapped in writhing rope. "We're the house of snakes. I'm pretty sure the toilet paper holders are a snake-motif. If you've an aversion to them, you're in the wrong place."
"Crude, but true," Farley cut in. "Don't worry about him Hermione. He really should've known better. This is not his first time tripping the girls' dorm protections."
At the reminder, Sallow's attention shifted from Hermione, down to his own predicament for the first time with a scowl. "What gives? This is the seventh-year dorm. Half of us are—" He grunted. "Of—" He twisted. "Age."
Hermione blinked. "There are jinxes to prevent boys from entering the girl dormitories?"
"Yep, and Lucan," Farley emphasized his first name with mocking sweetness. "Better stop wiggling before they turn to stone. Then, you'll have to have Snape personally undo you."
Sallow narrowed his attention to her, even as he stilled and followed her advice. "You. You knew. What tripped them? No, wait, it's because there's someone underage present. Right?"
"Of course. And that, Granger, is one of the first rules of Slytherin. Always assume someone has ulterior plans in motion." With that, Farley swung the door shut on the poor boy.
"Hey, wait—" The door slammed in his face, cutting off his words, and Hermione, suddenly alone with Gemma Farley, suddenly wondered if she wouldn't have preferred her chances with Slytherin as a whole in the common area.
What had she gotten herself into?